11th September 2017 In the thick of it.

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Monday 11th 54F, 12C, gales with rain. Threat of clearing up to sunny periods with showers.  The rest of the world seems to be having it much worse so we mustn't complain.

Pretty cottage at the Aastrup Sanatorium.

Another cowardly terrorist has thrown a 90lb block off a Danish motorway footbridge. Fortunately, for the cowardly terrorist, they were saved any risk of identification. Because their basic right to privacy, during their [alleged] criminal activity, was ensured by the total lack of security cameras in the public domain.

Police are appealing for witnesses. Presumably there will be none. Because any witnesses, including drivers on the motorway, would be expected to cover their eyes. Just in case they breached the Danish privacy laws by observing alleged criminal activity, including [alleged] terrorism with an [alleged] weapon of mass destruction. Had the block hit a petrol tanker or chemical tanker in a built up area a WMD is not an exaggeration. Witnesses would be wide open to prosecution, under the full weight of the law, if they so much as whispered in their sleep, to reveal any details of what they might have seen.

We have just been out in the car and were being followed, at foolishly close range, by a drunken, senile, drug addled, total raving lunatic in a small car. While I stuck precisely to the speed limit he was climbing all over our rear bumper trying to overtake despite constant oncoming traffic. Eventually he overtook us on double white lines, on the blind brow of a hill and then lost control for a moment in a violent swerve. He then braked hard to a complete standstill to block our path on the main road.

Erholm 'Dorte' Mølle.

After some arm waving he accelerated to illegally high speed through the 30mph [50kph] village which followed. Fortunately, for us, we had no dash cam fitted. Or we would have been in severe trouble with the law for recording such raving lunacy for posterity. One presumes that Danish courts have no provision for video replay during trials. Not even for lunatic WMD terrorist activities.

Meanwhile, Irma shoe-shop looters are huddled together, in police cells, to save themselves from the aftermath of the hurricane.We have been inundated with days of showers and gales but my rather inadequate footwear collection seem to have stabilized at former levels. I don't even own any "trainers." I'm probably too old to need further training in anything useful involving "trainers."

I was reading only the other day that collectable trainers can be as valuable [in intrinsic terms] as modern art. So there's really no more to be said. Except that you can use the canvas of a modern daub as a working surface to change the oil on your car. All without remotely affecting its intrinsic quality. While posh, collectable trainers are apt to rapidly lose their cosmetic value if you crawl under a car while wearing such totally inappropriate tat.

Horne Kirke.  

We arrived just as a wedding party was about to leave the car park [just opposite] for the church service. So had to quickly remind them that we were not their unfortunate, country cousins. As they all advanced in Viking formation to shake hands. It looks as if they had paid extra for the "outdoor arrangements" for party crashers. Which suggests that it was probably as well my pidgin Danish was enough to allay any fears of our joining them for a bit of free nosh and plonk!

Not that I am remotely against the wearing of "trainers." I am long beyond worrying about the subtle messages of juvenile dress code as they search for their ephemeral partnerships for life. Dandies and fops aside, I'm all for a bit of variety in male plumage. My own appearance in my gaudy "Lycra" is hardly a sound recommendation for plagiarism except for its deliberate choice on safety terms. [Sympathy or empathy is a powerful driver.]

If gaudy trainers, preferably with flashing LED lights, should catch on, they may even save the lives of winter joggers in their standard issue, all matt black uniforms. The same might be said for standard issue, all matt black cycle wear for formal evening wear. Are they copying motorcyclist's traditional and completely anonymous, all black racing leathers? Talk about delusions of grandeur! Even the most timid of mopeds can trash any cyclist's wildest aspirations except on an Alpine descent.

Click on any image for an enlargement. 

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